


And We Will Face The World

by khazadspoon



Category: Justice League, Man of Steel (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Superman vs Batman, most likely since the movie isn't out till 2015
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-22
Updated: 2013-11-22
Packaged: 2018-01-02 09:18:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1055079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khazadspoon/pseuds/khazadspoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Batman meets the Man of Steel; one meeting turns into another, and a friendship is born.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Since we have an upcoming Batman vs Superman movie (which I don't want to be vs but want to be a team up) I started to think about how the new 'seasoned' Batman would meet the Man of Steel. And this is what happened.

The alien, Kal-El they had called him, was really something. Tall, broad shouldered, the skin-tight costume leaving nothing to the imagination. He was, in image, a demi-god from the ancient Greeks. 

Though he at least had humility. 

Bruce watched the footage of the clean-up of Metropolis from within the Cave; he watched as Superman (and wasn’t that a ridiculous name?) lifted machinery and used all of the powers he had displayed to help fix the destruction he had caused. It was an effort that the media had coverage of almost constantly. 

On their first meeting, Batman was patrolling Gotham; Robin was out on the docks investigating a shipment that was three days early, but other than that the night was quiet. By Gotham standards at least. 

Kal-El floated gracefully a few inches above the rooftop of the warehouse, his cape a dark red in the shadows of night. Batman didn’t take his eyes off of the streets below. The only give away that Superman was even there was the quiet swoosh of his cape in the night air. 

“Stay out of Gotham.”

Superman touched down, a quiet sigh just audible over the sounds of the city. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not staying. I just wanted to introduce myself in person.” His voice was… unexpectedly soft. It was smooth, deep, with a hint of an accent. Disarming.

“You thought it necessary?” He replied and turned his head slightly, just until he could see the alien. Kal-El had his arms crossed over his chest, his expression was open and trusting. Superman nodded his head once and held one bare hand out.

“It’s an honour to meet you, Batman.” Superman smiled when Batman took his hand. They shook once, curtly, and Batman was distinctly aware of the strength in that hand. It could crush his bones to powder even through the armour. 

“You too, now stay out of Gotham.” He said, adding a small amount of growl to his voice. Superman’s smile faltered for a moment, but returned full force. 

“Alright, alright, I’m going. Feel free to drop by Metropolis if you need anything. Or, you know, just call out.” Superman lifted off of the rooftop and Batman watched as he took off into the sky. He watched the alien leave, the cape billowed around his legs as the wind buffeted it. Bruce let out a breath he had been holding and turned back to his watch. 

“Hey, Batman, there’s no activity at the docks. The shipment checks out, nothing suspicious.” Robin checked in, his voice betraying his boredom. “Anything on your end?” He asked. Batman surveyed the area with his binoculars before responding. 

“Nothing, Robin. We’ll meet at rendezvous point 25 in 15 minutes. Don’t dawdle this time.” The last time Robin had patrolled in a separate area, he’d been 4 minutes late and Bruce had just about torn apart downtown in search of him. 

“Roger that, Batman.” He cut the communication; Bruce made his way to the rendezvous point and found Robin leaning against one of the walls of the alleyway. “So, are we heading back now?” Dick pushed off of the wall and walked forward. 

“The city’s quiet, I think we can afford to leave a little early.” He gave Dick a small smile and looked up to the sky for a moment. He’d know if anything were to happen. They made their way back to the Batmobile in companionable silence, but Dick kept glancing over at him once they were seated. 

Bruce ignored him until they were back in the cave. He didn’t ask any questions, but Bruce knew he had them. 

-

Two weeks and one attempt to blow up the Eiffel Tower that was thwarted by Superman later, Bruce landed in Metropolis to a surprisingly quiet airfield. Metropolis wasn’t his favourite city; not because of how bright it was, or how unlike Gotham it was, but simply because it wasn’t home. 

The only reason he was there was to meet with some potential business partners with connections to the energy industry, but had a brief stop off for a PR meeting with some small-time reporter at the Daily Planet to endure first. 

The Daily Planet bustled with activity as he stepped out of the elevator onto the main floor. A few people looked up as he stepped out, one or two went a little wide eyed at seeing Gotham’s rich kid at their office, but he went generally unnoticed. 

Which was fine by Bruce. 

He stepped into Perry White’s office and put on his best ‘Brucie’ smile. Perry stood up from behind his desk and walked around to shake his hand. Bruce noted the large figure in the corner of the room. 

“Mr. Wayne, it’s good to have you back. Please, take a seat! Clark, here, will be talking to you today.” Perry gestured to the hulking man who flushed and nodded, his shoulders hunched over. Bruce kept his grin plastered to his lips, but saw that Clark would he taller (and broader) than him if he stood straight up. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir!” Clark said, his voice wavering slightly. Bruce knew an act when he saw one. He shook Clark’s outstretched hand and hid his surprise at how weak it felt. 

“Likewise, Mr…?” 

“Kent. But please, call me Clark.” Clark flushed again and stepped back, his reporter’s note book in one hand and a pen appeared in the other. The reporter jumped when Perry cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses nervously. Bruce tried not to narrow his eyes at the action. 

“Well, I have to talk to Lois about her next article, so I’ll let you use this office. Kent, make sure Mr. Wayne is comfortable.” He nodded to Bruce curtly before shutting the door behind him. Bruce folded his arms across his chest and cocked his hip. 

“So, Clark,” he said the name slowly, made it sound like he was rolling the word over his tongue, “shall we sit?” Clark nodded. 

“Y-Yes, um, take a seat, Mr. Wayne.” 

“If I’m calling you Clark, you can call me Bruce. Now, what did you want to interview me about?” He said, keeping his tone light and friendly. It seemed to calm Clark; the man smiled at him warmly and ducked his head to write a note in shorthand. He filled the small chair and Bruce watched as his glasses slipped down his nose. 

Something clicked. He held in his gasp of shock, but Clark looked up suddenly, his lips parted in an O shape. Bruce dropped his façade, lips straight and sincere, and leaned forward in his seat opposite Clark. 

“We can discuss this another time. Somewhere more private. For now, let’s just do what we came here expecting to do.” He said quietly, the Bat crept into his voice. Clark- Superman paled a little and nodded again. 

“Tell me about the Wayne Foundation’s sudden foray into solar power.”

Bruce played the businessman, gave the Planet it’s news story, and gave Clark a meaningful look as they stood up to part. 

“Be in Gotham three days from now at 9pm. If we’re going to talk, it’s on my terms.” He gripped Clark’s hand tightly and watched as Kal-El appeared on Clark’s features. Strong, confident, and almost godly.

Bruce left the Daily Planet with countermeasure plans forming in his mind. 

Just in case.


	2. Chapter 2

“Oh my god you’re meeting Superman.”

Dick looked at him with wide eyes, his hands clapped over his cheeks in a melodramatic gesture. 

“Yes, Dick, I’m meeting Superman. Eat your dinner.” He glared half-heartedly across the table at Dick who rolled his eyes and picked at his food with his fork.   
“Fine.” They ate in silence for a few minutes and Bruce waited for the inevitable question. Dick was practically squirming in his seat as he refrained from asking. Bruce took a sip of his water just as Dick looked up. “So can I c-”

“No.” 

“But Bruce-!” Dick made to stand up, Bruce held his hand up. 

“No, Dick. Not this time.” He met Dick’s eyes and gave him a stern look. After the first meeting, he would consider letting Robin interact with the alien. But under supervision. Just because Kal-El had extended the hand of friendship, or at least co-operation, didn’t mean Bruce trusted him. Not by a long shot. Dick apparently had taken his last words to mean he would definitely join Bruce next time; if there was a next time, that was. 

“Well just make sure you don’t scare him away, alright?” Dick grinned at him before spiking a carrot on his fork. 

“Hmph, I’ll try.” He smiled a little at the bark of laughter Dick didn’t bother to cover up. 

-

Later, when Dick had gone with Barbara on a basic patrol of the east side of Gotham, Bruce prepared for his meeting. He ran through the exits he could take from the area he had picked to wait for Superman in his mind. At least three that gave cover, including two underground ones if necessary. 

He strapped the utility belt around his waist with a reassuring click and fastened the armour’s neck to the cowl. Last came the cape; its comforting weight settled on his shoulders and the material curled around him. Bruce checked in on Robin and Batgirl before heading out himself. 

-

Batman settled himself on the low rooftop of the garage and waited. He had no doubt that Superman would know where he was; the reports he’d accessed about Kal-El had mentioned the extent to which he could see and hear. If Superman wanted to find him, Bruce could do nothing to stop him. But everything had a weakness; Batman wanted to know what weakness Kal-El had.

“Batman.” The voice was firm and steady; it cut through the background noise Gotham produced constantly. Bruce turned to face the floating figure and tipped his chin up to take in the sight before him. Like the first night they had met, Superman was in his… uniform. His hands were on his hips, balled into loose fists, and a small smile played on his lips. There was a surprisingly big difference between the being that floated before Bruce now and the hunched, clumsy man who had been introduced to him in Perry’s office only days ago. 

“Superman.” He replied. The smile on Superman’s lips spread wider and Bruce schooled his expression tightly into his usual frown. “You’re late.” It was a lie, he was on time to the second, but he had to try and let the alien know where he stood. This was Gotham; Batman’s territory. 

“I’ll try and meet your expectations in future,” he said politely, his feet touched the ground with a soft puff of air. “I’m surprised you wanted to meet here, I expected to meet somewhere more… neutral.” 

“I said that this was on my terms, or did you forget that, Clark?” Batman glowered at the man and watched as something like anger came over his features for a moment. Bruce tried to ignore the almost intimidating display as Superman crossed his arms over his chest, the muscles bunching under the neigh-indestructible blue material.

“No, I didn’t forget.” Clark kept his distance, something that Bruce silently thanked him for. “So, what do you want to know about me?” He said; the light tone of his voice contradicted the defensive body language, but knowledge was knowledge. 

“You’re basic background is well known to the world; the last son of Krypton. But that doesn’t tell me what your MO is.” He studied Superman’s expression for any sign of anger, but saw only patience. 

“I just want to do some good, that’s all.” He took a step forward and dropped his arms to his sides. The red cape flowed silently behind him; Bruce resisted the urge to step back from the man. 

“Is there any way to stop you?” It had to be asked. He spoke bluntly, but Batman had never been one to tread lightly to spare a few feelings. Clark winced visibly but nodded and kept eye contact. 

“I can’t see through lead,” he paused and bit his lip, “and it seems that Kryptonian atmospherics make me weak.” Bruce filed the information away, his mind putting the new information to use immediately by figuring out how to put a lead lining of some kind over the Batcave. He’d have to use it on Robin’s costume as well as the others; though it seemed pointless to do so on his own. Clark knew who he was already. 

“I appreciate the honesty,” Bruce said, his muscles relaxing minutely. 

“Well, I figure if I know who you are, I’ve already found out more about you than anyone else will.” He shrugged his shoulders and gave Bruce a self-depreciating smile. Bruce let out a short laugh and checked Robin’s transmitter quickly by looking at their small communications device. 

“If I hadn’t figured out your secret, you wouldn’t know who I was.”

“I suppose not…” He fell silent. Batman watched as his eyes shot over to the north and his muscles tensed. “Think I’ve got to cut this short, there’s a plant explosion in Utah.” He crouched a little and looked at Bruce. “Just call if you need anything; it was good talking to you.” 

Bruce braced himself as Superman took off quickly into the night. The report on his senses had not been misleading. 

The news coverage of Zod’s invasion had been partial; the destruction the military forces on both sides had cause, there was too higher a risk for reporters to get close to the action. With the exception of Lois Lane, who had stayed close (a little too close). But, with the knowledge of Kal-El’s weaknesses, Bruce thought about if it was the same for any other surviving Kryptonians. If there were any, that was.


	3. Chapter 3

Clark sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, trying in vain to ease some of the tension from the muscles there. He didn’t want to admit it, but he’d always been terrible at lying to himself, but meeting Batman had been… well, scary. The black Kevlar, the multiple gadgets and the scowling face all lived up to their reputation. Bruce was a little scary, too; the instantaneous way his expression shifted into who he really was back and forth from the caricature he presented to the public. It was impressive.

  
“Hey, Smallville, fancy some lo mein from the place down town?” Lois leaned on the wall of his cubicle, her hair tied up in a loose bun. Clark felt his pulse jump at the sight of her even after all these months and chewed on his lip absently.

  
“I’d love to, Lois, really, but I’ve got a deadline today and if I don’t get it in Perry’s gonna-” He paused as she laughed, the corners of her eyes crinkling.

  
“Sure, maybe tomorrow then?” Her voice was hopeful; Clark gave her a crooked grin and nodded.

  
“Definitely.”

  
“I’ll hold you to that,” she punched his shoulder and he winced for effect; the laughter on her face was worth it. “If you get any leads on that scandal about the waste dumps, call me alright? Immediately, I mean it this time.” She pointed a slender finger at him, and this time the wince was real. Batman might be scary, but Lois Lane was downright terrifying.

  
Clark watched as she left the office, her briefcase under one arm and her phone in her free hand, and smiled to himself. After everything that had happened with Zod, she’d stuck by him and kept his secret. When he needed someone, when he had nightmares, she offered him a shoulder to cry on and a friendly ear. There was something between them, that was undeniable, and though they weren’t publicly together as Clark and Lois she was with him none the same.

  
She turned and winked at him as she got into the elevator. Clark flushed and ducked his head, a goofy smile playing on his lips.

  
“Hey, Clark, this came for you,” Lombard handed him a package with one arm, his latest article in the other ready for review.

  
“U-uh, thanks, Steve.” He took the small package and placed it on his desk.

  
“You see the game last night?” Steve asked. Clark shook his head but smiled apologetically and adjusted his glasses. Lombard might not be a detective, but Clark didn’t need more people knowing who he really was.

  
“No, I missed it. Who won?”

  
“Gotham, not surprisingly, they’ve been dominating the league this season.” Lombard scratched his neck and moved away. “Was one hell of a game though; well, enjoy your mail, Clark, catch you later.” Steve walked across the room, stopped once or twice to talk to some pretty intern, and Clark looked down at the parcel on his desk. It was just bigger than his hand and unlabelled. That screamed trouble, so Clark tried to look into it with his x-ray vision. He couldn’t see into it.

  
Lead lined.

  
That meant Bruce had sent it. His mouth went dry and his pulse jumped. Why would Bruce send him something? He opened the small box slowly; the anticipation was like being at home for Christmas where his parents always lined his presents with foil to stop him peaking. Ma had continued to do so for years, even after his dad had… well. She’d never stopped. Clark shook off the thought train and focussed on the task in hand.

  
Inside the box was a short handwritten letter and what looked like a mobile phone of some sort. He picked up the black device and turned it over carefully in his hands. It fit in the palm of his hand and only had a couple of buttons. The plastic creaked when he put pressure on it, but at more pressure than the office phone did. Batman had reinforced it, which was reassuring. Clark put the phone-thing down and picked up the letter.

  
The handwriting was elegant, almost like calligraphy, and in neat lines even without margins to guide the hand. The paper felt expensive, thick and almost like parchment. Clark resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Bruce was rich, he knew that.

  
‘ _Kent,_

  
_Please find enclosed a device that will allow us to communicate more effectively than just “calling” when you are needed. The instructions are easy; just press the green button to open a connection and red to close the connection. When it’s open, you can either type a message or use it to speak to me. It is similar to a normal mobile phone but with limited connectivity._

  
_Don’t take advantage of this. It should be used only in emergencies or if the situation calls for it._  
 _B_.’

  
Clark looked from the letter to the phone. Should he send a message, just to say he’d received it? That couldn’t hurt, right? He picked up the phone and pressed the green button. The small LED screen lit up and Clark selected the message option. A small touchscreen keypad appeared below the text-box (that must have been why there was reinforcement, Bruce had thought of everything unsurprisingly) and Clark thought about what to send.

_Got your gift  
S_

He tapped the send button and the keypad flashed away, the previously lit-up screen went dark.

“Huh.”

A few seconds later the little device lit up and vibrated once. Clark held it in his hand for a few moments before pressing the screen on the point that said ‘read’.

_Emergencies only._

Clark snorted at the reply.

“Alright, I get it.” He mumbled to himself and put the small device in his pocket before putting the box in the trash can. Clark put the letter in his briefcase after giving it one last look. He didn’t really know what constituted as an emergency in Batman’s book. But, he was sure that if Bruce needed help he’d ask for it.  
Maybe. The Batman didn’t seem like someone who wanted, or thought he needed, help. But Clark was optimistic. Having someone other than Lois to share this secret with was invigorating; Bruce understood what it was like to hide who you were. There weren’t many people Clark could think of that were in his situation. Even Bruce wasn’t; Bruce was human. Clark had gotten word of an island supposedly inhabited by Amazonian women, but his searches had proved futile.

The door to Perry’s office slammed shut and startled Clark out of his thoughts. He got back to writing his article and tried to push Batman to the back of his mind.

-

The first time he fought alongside Batman was a complete blur to Clark. There Joker, an escaped patient from Arkham that apparently caused Batman more trouble than Clark thought possible, had positioned several bombs in the centre of Gotham which would go off if Batman failed to destroy a certain number of androids in 50 minutes.

There were 22 minutes left on the clock when Clark got the message. He stripped to his uniform and headed for Gotham as fast as he could to find Batman surrounded by several clunky androids, his limbs moving with a subtle grace as they kicked and punched the metal. Clark shot down and tore one away as it reached to grab Batman’s cape.

The robot hit the floor with a crash, it’s parts crumpled under Superman’s grip.

“You called?” He shot Batman a grin that only widened at the scowl he was given in the return.

“4 bombs scattered across Gotham, find them and take care of them.” He ducked and twisted out of a robot’s path. Superman leapt over the robot and twisted the head off (he’d remember that detail later and wince, regret filling him) before landing with his back to Batman.

“Sure you don’t need help with these guys? I’m not a bomb expert.” He reminded the man behind him. The weaved around each other, Batman using some form of martial arts to push the robots a little further away so he could throw small explosive devices at them as Clark punched dents into the thick armour they were covered in.

“I’ve done this before; just take the bombs out of the atmosphere, you’ve got ten minutes.” And that was that. Superman sped around the city, one ear focussed on Batman’s fight, and detected the location of the four bombs. He shot up into the sky with the bombs in tow and heated them to the point of detonation once he was certain they would cause no harm. He looked down at the world and took a moment to himself, barely a second, before he shot down back to Gotham.

Batman stood atop a pile of metal parts, smoke rose from their broken circuits and curled around him. He was an image of terror and destruction and Clark could do nothing but stare.

They spoke briefly before Batman went to catch the Joker, but Clark couldn’t remember what he’d said. He couldn’t recall how long it had taken him to get back to Metropolis.

He came back to himself in his living room, his blood singing in his veins and a strange feeling of dread.


	4. Chapter 4

The next few months passed in a blur of reports, small trips to other parts of the world with Lois (by plane, Perry had paid for the seats so they were going to use them thank you very much Lois) and the occasional run in with a bank robber or burning building.

From what he heard about and from Gotham, the dark city had been relatively quiet as well. Batman hadn’t needed any extra help, and any time that Clark contacted him, he’d had things under control. It seemed that Superman’s appearance had scared a few of the criminal sects to crawl back into the woodwork for a while. Clark didn’t think that Bruce would appreciate it, even if it made Gotham safer. He probably saw it as a slight on his reputation. Which, when Clark thought about it, it was. He was at a charity function when he realised what he might have done in Gotham and decided he should apologise.

_Sorry_

He sent the one word message on the little black phone and took a slow drink from his orange juice. Alcohol didn’t really affect him the way it did humans, but he wanted to look professional in the midst of all the important people in the room. That included the mayor, several law enforcement officers and a couple of politicians from across the country. Lois was mingling easily in the crowd; their job was to get quotes from as many ‘great’ individuals as possible concerning the charity and how the money would be used to help disadvantaged groups. The phone in his pocket vibrated once.

_What happened? Emergency?_

Clark covered his mouth with one hand to hide his smile; he imagined Bruce on top of a building somewhere in full bat-regalia frowning at the black phone in his hand.

_Nothing. Just thought I should apologise for upsetting your city’s balance_

Bruce probably wouldn’t accept it, it might not even matter, but Clark thought the apology was needed. The reply came a few minutes later and Clark pointedly ignored his own eagerness to read it.

_West balcony, 3 minutes._

What? Did that mean that..? Clark concentrated his senses for a moment and listened. He heard Bruce’s voice on the far right of the room. Clark didn’t know the billionaire was attending; he was surprised Lois hadn’t said something. She was not a fan of Bruce Wayne (Clark hadn’t breathed a word of Bruce to her) and Clark thought it might have been to do with his refusal to let her interview him on several occasions.

Clark walked, or shuffled since the room was so crowded, across to the doors of the west balcony and stepped out into the cool air. The lights of Metropolis blocked out most of the clear sky at night, but Clark looked past it to see the stars.

“You don’t need to apologise, you know.” Bruce walked to stand next to Clark; he leaned against the railing and looked down to the streets below. “I asked you to come to Gotham.” He looked across at Clark. His collar was undone, the bowtie dangled loosely either side of his neck. Clark saw the faint discoloured skin where the tip of a scar showed. He didn’t ask about it; no doubt Bruce would turn and walk away.

“I upset the status quo; that calls for an apology.” He crossed his arms and shot a meaningful look at Bruce. “But, I’m keeping my promise to stay away unless you need me. Not that it seems you ever will; you’re more than capable alone.” Clark smiled and tried not to pat Bruce on the shoulder. He didn’t seem like a pat-me kind of guy.

“I’m not alone.”

“Um, you’re not?” Clark asked. Bruce shook his head and a small fond smile graced his lips. It was genuine; Clark’s heart fluttered.

“You’ve heard of me, but not Robin? He’ll be offended.” Bruce smirked, a hint of a threat in the teeth he bared, and Clark kicked himself mentally. He’d forgotten about the ‘Boy Wonder’. Clark flushed and looked at his feet in embarrassment. Bruce let out a huff of air, Clark realised it was a laugh, and turned to look out into the city again.

“I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s fine.” They lapsed into a soft silence. It only lasted a minute or two before Bruce nodded at him, one curt dip of his head, and went back into the party. Clark stood on the balcony alone for a while, let the air cool his skin as he listened to the bustle of the party behind him and the city in front of him. He went back in to find Lois tapping her foot by the buffet table.

“So, you’re getting cosy with Mr. Wayne now?” She said quietly, one eyebrow rose. Clark swallowed the lump in his throat.

“No, not really, we just… happened to be in the same place at the time!” He held his hands up, palms out, in surrender. She glared at him a little before sliding her arm through his. He squeezed her arm gently and leaned in conspiratorially. “Get any good quotes?” He asked. She tipped her head back and laughed.

“What do you think, Smallville? Of course I did. Perry should be pleased; what about you?” She looked up at him, her eyes twinkled in the low light of the room.

“I got a couple; they don’t talk to me as much as they do to you though…”

“They would if they knew what I know.” She whispered. He rolled his eyes and walked with her to the lobby.

“I don’t doubt it.” He mumbled as they got into a taxi. Just behind them, Clark saw Bruce Wayne exit the building, his arm slung around the shoulders of a thin model with short dark hair. It looked somehow wrong to see his head tipped back as he laughed, to see his lips curled up in a wide grin. Clark turned back to smile at Lois as they drove off.

A few hours later, as Lois typed up the night’s findings on her tablet, Clark felt the black phone vibrate in his pocket.

_Robin was offended._

Clark looked at the screen in disbelief. Was Bruce making a joke? He typed a reply slowly, trying not to draw attention from Lois.

_Any way I can make it up to him?_

He looked over at Lois; she looked up momentarily and smiled at him before getting back to work. Clark put the oven on to preheat and leaned on the kitchen counter.

“What delicacy are we having tonight then, Clark?” Lois asked him, smiling. He sighed dramatically and opened the fridge, pointed to a packet and shut the door.

“We’re having lasagne, Lois, I told you that earlier.” She rolled her eyes and chuckled under her breath. The black phone went off in his pocket again.

_Gotham, Saturday night, 10:35. You’ll hear where._

Clark looked at the phone and sent an ok, then put it in his pocket. Lois shot him a look, one that said she wanted to know what he was up to, but she didn’t say anything. The oven beeped and Clark put the lasagne in. 


	5. Chapter 5

Robin practically vibrated in place as he stood waiting for Batman to finish preparations for their patrol that night. Bruce had given up trying to calm him down. It wasn’t a sure thing that Superman would show up; if there was an emergency elsewhere in the world, maybe a natural disaster or something stuck in a tree somewhere, then it would take precedence over visiting Gotham.

He had tried to keep the meeting a secret, to let it be a surprise for Dick, but he’d found out almost immediately. Sometimes Bruce wondered how he ever managed to strike fear into the hearts of criminals when one kid could make him talk just by looking at him in a certain way.

“Come _on_ B we’re gonna be late!” Dick grumbled. His foot tapped impatiently on the ground as he visibly tried to keep himself still.

“If you don’t learn patience you’ll never progress, Robin,” Bruce countered; patience was key to Dick’s training, and something he sometimes struggled with.

“I know, I know, but if you wanted me to be patient you shouldn’t have told me I’d be meeting the Big Blue tonight!”

“I didn’t tell you,” Bruce reminded him (and taking the nick name into consideration, it was a good one), “you guessed.” Dick groaned and succumbed to movement. He strode over to Batman at the computer and leaned on the backrest of the chair. He sighed heavily, the sound carried through the cave up to the rustle of bats above, and then proceeded to do several cartwheels back to the centre of the cave. “Don’t use all your energy.” Bruce mumbled. It was useless trying to talk to Dick when he was excited. Bruce remembered being the same way as a boy.

A few seconds later, the computer finished encrypting one of the new files Batman had uploaded, Kryptonian Physiology Alpha, and Bruce stood up from the seat.

“Alright. Get in.”

-

Robin finally stopped pacing around the large stack of pallets at 10:33. Batman had chosen a secluded industrial park that was sure to remain empty for several hours at least. He had started to trust Superman, the alien had not given him reason not to so far, but the low ground terrain offered easy exits should the need arise. The air was crisp and the low light of the industrial park made the metal poles and beams shine with a dull light.

“You did say 10:35, right?” Robin asked, his arms crossed again. Bruce nodded.

“Yes, and it’s not time yet-”

“Sorry I’m late; minor earthquake damage in Santorini.” Superman glided down with a sheepish smile on his face. Bruce rolled his eyes beneath the cowl as Robin sucked in a breath. Superman touched down on the ground, a small puff of air blew the dust and dirt up around his feet, and then he walked with his hand held out to Robin. “Robin, I presume? It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Dick gaped openly, jaw slacked and cheeks flushed, but managed to accept the handshake.

“Yeah, that’s- that’s me.” He said lamely. Batman stepped forward and put his hands on his hips. Clark shot him a smile as he let go of Robin’s hand. “You just got back from Greece?” Robin asked, some of his composure slipping back into place. Superman nodded.

“I wasn’t there for too long, but a couple of buildings collapsed so I offered to help set up new foundations.” He dusted some of the dirt from his forearms. Bruce heard a high pitched beep in his ear and held up a hand to Robin as he stepped away from the conversation. Clark furrowed his brow but turned to back to Robin. They lapsed into an easy conversation about Batman’s demeanour.

“Alfred, what’s happened?”

“Activity on the south east side, possible robbery in the Jewellery quarter. I suggest you make your way there promptly, sir.” Batman calculated the time they’d need to get there and nodded to himself.

“Thanks, we’re on our way.” He cut off the communications line and turned to Robin who was midway through a summersault. Clark had a look of amazement on his face; Bruce thought it was genuine. “Jewel heist in the south east side, we’ve got work to do.” Robin nodded and straightened himself out, his mouth set in a determined line. He turned and dipped his head to Superman once before getting his grappling hook ready.

“Sorry to cut things short, but duty calls. It was good to meet you, Supes.” Clark flushed a little but kept a serious expression.

“You too, Robin. Be safe.” He replied. Clark looked over at Batman and gave him a warm smile. Bruce could _feel_ Dick follow it with his eyes, could see the cogs in his head start turning. “I know; ‘stay out of Gotham’. Good luck.” Clark took off into the sky with one last wave to the two men on the ground.

“We don’t need luck.” Bruce said to no one. He heard a snort of laughter from his left and shot a glare at Dick. “Come on, we’ve got work to do.”

-

The heist was prevented with minimal injury to both the robbers and Batman and Robin in under 20 minutes. Robin had a cut on his right arm that needed cleaning, but other than that there were mainly just bruises. Bruce felt his side twinge when he bent down to grab the antiseptic wipes from the medical kit. Dick was sat on the medical table behind him, his frame relaxed, and Bruce pushed his cowl back.

“So, when’s he going to get an invite to the cave?” Dick said casually; Bruce whipped his head up and frowned at the boy, one eyebrow up. Dick flinched a little under his scrutiny, but not as much as he used to.

“What?”

“Superman, when’s he getting an invite?” When Bruce stalked towards him, Dick threw his hands up in submission. “I just thought you two looked pretty comfortable with each other, that’s all!” He yelped when Bruce wiped his cut with the antiseptic and sucked a hissing breath in through his teeth. “Ouch, no need to be pissy.”

“Language.” Bruce admonished; Dick tensed his arm against the stinging pain Bruce knew all too well, but fell silent.

They stayed like that for a while, Bruce cleaning the cut carefully before attending to a few scrapes of his own on his side. The sting of the antiseptic was almost comforting; it kept his mind in the here and now. But Dick’s question had thrown him off balance. Had he let Clark too close, too quickly? Bruce thought back to the way Clark had fought beside him, how they had flowed together, and frowned to himself. Batman worked alone or with those he had entrusted with his secret; Robin and Batgirl. Adding someone new to the mix was a bad idea.

But why did it seem so tempting?

He tensed when a hand fell on his shoulder.

“Hey, come back to the present, Bruce.” Dick squeezed his shoulder, the effect lost under the strength of the armour, but Bruce nodded and let out the breath he’d been holding.

“It’s late,” he said quietly, “I’ve got a stockholder’s meeting tomorrow. I doubt we’ll be patrolling tomorrow night.” Dick’s face softened and he nodded in understanding.

Bruce didn’t sleep for what felt like hours, the black phone placed under his pillow kept pulling his thoughts to it. He checked it once or twice, even though it hadn’t gone off. Just in case, he told himself.

Just in case. 


	6. Chapter 6

The true effects of Kryptonite were revealed to Bruce in person a week later. He watched the screen as Superman fell to his knees, a fluorescent green glow shining around him as something Bruce could only think to call a cyborg stood over the crouched man. He scanned the image for any recognisable landmarks; it was definitely Metropolis, somewhere up town judging by the hotels.

There was a loud crash from outside; Bruce looked out of the glass doors just in time to see them shatter as Superman’s body was thrown through them.

Bruce refrained from jumping in front of him as the metal creature stepped in through the hole. Clark was struggling to sit up, blood was splattered over his chest and his lip was split. The image was disturbing.

“I have laid you low, Superman. Stay down so I can kill you.” The cyborg spoke. Bruce saw from his position behind an upturned desk that the green light emanated from the thing’s chest. A green stone was placed in an indent with wires attached to it.

That was the kryptonite.

“M-Metallo, stop,” Superman murmered, the gurgle of blood in his throat audible above the panic rising in the room.

“Never.” Metallo grabbed Superman by the neck of his costume and pulled him up with ease. Bruce watched as Clark shut his eyes, his muscles began to relax, and he felt his own anger rise. He looked left and right, checked to see if anyone was paying attention to him but no one could take their eyes from what was happening in front of them. He ran, body doubled over, to one of the booths at the side of the room and used his black phone to call the jet. It would be in position in three minutes. He just hoped Superman could wait that long for backup.

The cyborg threw Superman like a doll across the room and Bruce winced at the crash his body made as it crashed through the wall. He reached into the briefcase he had brought with him to the lunch meeting and grabbed the small explosive device he had put in it for emergencies. It rolled across the floor and made a small metallic sound as it hit Metallo’s foot.

It exploded and more screams filled the air. Metallo stumbled back and the green glow was obscured by the smoke produced by the projectile. Bruce heard his phone beep and ran as fast as he could to the fire exit. He only had time to put minimal armour on and he did so hastily, dragging the cape over his back and pushing the cowl over his face in moments. The utility belt clicked on moments later. Batman ran to the alleyway Superman had been thrown into and saw him lying prone, his fingers clutching at the rubble around him as he clung to consciousness.

“I’ll take it from here, Superman.” He said quietly. Clark nodded slightly. Batman threw a smoke bomb into the restaurant floor and ducked inside. Metallo’s green glow was to his left.

“I see the Man of Steel has an ally. Guess I’ll have to take you out, as well!” The voice boomed; Batman growled and shot his grapple at the things arm and tugged. Metallo stumbled a little and Batman rolled around to the cyborg’s back. He thrust an electrified batarang into its lower back where the spine would be and heard the sharp cry that told him he’d struck well.

He needed to get the kryptonite out of the things chest and as far away from Superman as possible. The green stone must have been powering the cyborg somehow; the wires ran through the chest plate and there were traces of wiring in several of its joints.

“You’re going to fail, _Batman_.” It spat the name out and turned suddenly, its hand grabbed for Batman’s throat but he ducked at the last second, feinting to the side and putting three more electric devices into the metal humanoid.

“My track record says otherwise.” He countered. Metallo sped his movements up and managed to deliver a hard punch to Batman’s midsection that made him reel back, pain shot through him but he pushed through. He had to.

Metallo made the mistake of facing Batman directly, his chest open and unprotected. Batman used the grapple to grab the green stone and pulled on it with every inch of strength he could muster. It made a terrible screeching sound as he wrenched it free. Metallo shouted and fell to his knees, the scrape of metal on metal assaulted Bruce’s ears. He rushed forwards and picked the green stone up, wrapped his fingers around it and ran to the jet. Batman hurriedly placed it into the lead compartment he had installed there.

From the restaurant he heard a loud crash and rushed back to see Superman holding Metallo’s wrists behind his back wrapped in some sort of bent pole. He looked mostly recovered; the sickly pale colour of his skin under the influence of kryptonite had receded slightly.

Superman looked over at Batman and gave him a short clipped nod. Bruce returned the gesture and walked back to the jet; Clark had things under control.

-

Bruce had to stay in Metropolis overnight; the meeting with a potential future board member had been interrupted by the chaos Metallo’s grudge match had brought. The room Bruce had booked was large, overindulgent as Brucie would like it, and had the largest bathroom Bruce had ever seen; it even had a large claw-footed bathtub.

Bruce started to fill it with almost scalding hot water as he stripped the ruined suit jacket from his shoulders. He hadn’t had time to remove it earlier. A tap at the window made him pause. He grabbed the closest and walked slowly to the main room.

“Bruce, let me in,” Clark tapped on the window again. Bruce let out a harsh breath and opened the window. Clark floated in, cape trailing behind him, and Bruce spun round with a growl.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He hissed. Clark stepped back away from Bruce as he stalked towards him. He visibly straightened and thrust his chest out slightly.

“I’m _here_ to talk to you about what happened today.” Clark crossed his arms, his lips turned down into a frown. Bruce rubbed a hand over his tired face.

“You were in trouble, I intervened. That’s all there is to it. If I hadn’t, you’d probably be dead.” He strode to the bathroom and turned the taps off.

“You risked your own life; have you looked in the mirror?” Clark’s voice drifted to him from the main room. Bruce nodded his head. He had extensive bruising to his abdomen and possible bruising on his ribs; his skin had turned a mottled purple. It was far from the worst he’d had to endure.

“Yes, Clark, I’ve looked in the mirror. I’ve been doing this longer than you have, I know what to expect.” He turned his head and saw Clark standing awkwardly in the centre of the room. Bruce sighed and turned round. “You needed my help today. Just because I’m not invulnerable doesn’t mean I’m not an asset.” He looked up at Clark’s set shoulders and then into his eyes. Clark looked back for a long moment; it stretched on until Clark’s eyes darted away.

“You could have been hurt, you could have been _killed_ and I can’t- I can’t let that happen again.” His shoulders sagged; the powerful frame seemed to sink in on itself. Bruce grabbed a towel from the rack and walked forward to stand next to the man.

“I know what happened between you and Zod, but you did what was necessary. You may not like it, but it had to be done.” He rested his hand on Clark’s arm, their bodies close enough that he could feel the heat coming off of the man, and squeezed it comfortingly. “Don’t dwell on the past, you’ll end up bitter like me.” He tried to lighten his tone, it seemed to work. Clark smiled softly at him, their eyes meeting again.

“Thanks, Bruce… You’re surprisingly good at pep talks.” Clark’s smile widened. Bruce levelled his breathing, conscious of his heart beat increasing. Clark’s eyes darted down to his lips, his brow furrowed for a moment, and then he stepped away with flushed cheeks. “I’ll, um, leave you to your bath, then.” He didn’t wait for Bruce to answer before he went back out the window.

Bruce looked at the towel in his hand and frowned. 


	7. Chapter 7

Clark’s heart was pounding in his chest as he shut the door to his flat. Between being attacked by Metallo and being saved by Batman as well as whatever had happened when he went to talk to Bruce it had been an… interesting day.

He dragged one hand over his face and heaved a sigh. Something had happened, he’d _felt_ something happen. Clark groaned and clenched his hands into fists. He needed to talk to someone, he needed to-

He needed to calm down and sleep on it. Then he could wake up and go to work like any other day. He could see Lois and have that lunch he’d promised her. After that he’d forget the rush of anger that had filled him when he’d seen Bruce’s injuries. He could forget the way he’d understood how it felt to have to do something you couldn’t forgive yourself for doing.

Something vibrated in his bedroom. For a moment his heart leapt thinking it must have been Bruce; it was Lois. She wanted to know how he was doing. He didn’t really know what to say.

_I’m fine, all recovered. Had a little help. See you in the morning_

He put the phone down and sank onto the bed, his face smashed into the pillow. The cape spread over his back and he reached back to wrap it around him. He let his eyes close and welcomed the darkness of his eyelids.

He was met with the image of shirtless Bruce. It may have been childish, but he threw his pillow at the wall.

-

After a night filled with tossing and turning more than actual sleeping, Clark rode his bike to the Daily Planet and took the elevator up to his floor. He walked bleary-eyed to his cubicle and slumped in his chair. No one seemed to notice his bad mood for most of the morning, which he was thankful for. Then Lois rolled her chair over and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” She asked softly; he glanced at her and quirked his lips.

“Couldn’t sleep, that’s all. I’ll be alright, Lois.” He tried to smile at her, he didn’t want to make her worried, but she just raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, right. Come on; let’s go somewhere quieter so you can actually _talk_ to me.” She tugged on his sleeve and pushed her chair back to her desk. He stood and followed her, probably looking like a lost puppy. Or Doberman. She led him into one of the spare interview rooms and sat him in a chair. “So. Spill it, Kent.” Her hands clasped in front of her, Clark thought she looked like she was actually interviewing him instead of trying to comfort him.

“I guess yesterday was just… kind of a big deal.” He said lamely and shrugged his shoulders. She sighed and shook her head.

“Was it the kryptonite?” She asked. Clark started to shake his head but stopped. He needed to be honest, it had thrown him for a loop.

“Well, partly, I’ve never… I felt pain, _physical_ pain. It was like someone had stripped me bare and taken everything that made me strong away. It… I’ve never felt like that before.” He put his face in his hands and tried to stop his body trembling.

“Oh, Clark,” Lois quickly strode over to him and put her arms around him. “It’ll be alright. You’re capable, more capable than most of us, at dealing with this.” She tipped his chin up and smiled down at him. Clark thought she would be better at the whole Superman thing than he ever could be; she was strong and confident, she’d know exactly what to do.

“Batman said that I did what- what had to be done. With Zod.” He whispered the words, felt the way Lois stiffened minutely and felt his own throat catch at the mention of the General but continued anyway. “He’s a good man, I think we’re friends. He’s…” Clark paused. Lois looked at him expectantly. He didn’t know what he wanted to say; he couldn’t mention Bruce, but he felt the urge to tell her everything he’d thought about the man. How he was noble, how he cared about his city and how much Clark admired him even though he’d only known Bruce for a short time. “I like him.” He finished lamely.

“You… like Batman.” Lois repeated, she quirked her lips up into a little smile and Clark shrugged. He felt his cheeks begin to heat up. “Should I be worried or something?” She knelt in front of him and placed her hands on his knees. He couldn’t think of anything to say; he just stared at her. “Clark?”

“I don’t- I can’t-” Clark groaned and slumped back in the chair. “I really don’t know, Lois.” Lois squeezed his knees gently and stroked her thumb over the soft material of his work trousers, tying to comfort the man trying to curl in on himself in front of her.

“Hey, _hey_ ;” she tipped his chin up and Clark felt his throat close at the soft expression on her features, “it’s alright. We can… we can talk about it later, yeah? Come on, we’ve got work to do.” Lois patted his knees and stood quickly. She held her hand out and Clark took it, letting her help him stand. She stroked his cheek with one slender finger and smiled at him; he wanted to give her the world in that moment.

Lois lead him back through the office to his cubicle and sat him down.

“Don’t get stuck in that thick head of yours, Clark,” she ruffled his hair and ignored his half-hearted flailing, “relax.”

Clark let the day go by quietly; he wrote his article and submitted it on time for once, he had a nice lunch with Lombard, Lois and some kid called Jimmy who took a shine to him. He joined in the casual conversations, Jimmy asked him questions about how to get into journalism which he answered with a lot of help from Lois, and he felt his mood improve minute by minute.

Every few minutes Lois shot him a soft smile. He smiled back, and eventually he meant it. 


	8. Chapter 8

There were screams; people ran in all directions from the crater, Superman heard the wailing of sirens approaching from one end of the street. He groaned and lifted his head, a bolt of pain shot down his back, and opened his eyes. Solomon Grundy grabbed him by the hair and heaved him up.

“You _pay_ for what you do to Grundy!” The thing shouted. Superman grasped uselessly at Grundy’s wrists, his body felt like a lead bar. Grundy slammed him back into the ground. The air flew out of Superman’s lungs, dust fell into his eyes, and he let out a hoarse cry.

“Stop, Grundy,” he managed to moan, his hand lifted in supplication, but Grundy roared and landed heavy blows on his chest. The ground quaked beneath him and Clark felt his bones rattle under the onslaught.

Then, from somewhere above them, came a high pitched sound. Two seconds later, Grundy cried out as something exploded on his back. A blur of black flashed to his side and Batman appeared out of the smoke, his hands locked into fists. Small silver tips protruded from his knuckled and he punched Grundy with several blows to the upper thigh. Superman managed to collect himself and hovered in the air. Heat gathered behind his eyelids.

“ _Duck!_ ” He cried, and hoped that Batman heard. He shot Grundy in the shoulder, the skin blistered and Grundy stumbled back. Batman lunged forward when he deemed it safe and threw a batarang; it lodged into Grundy’s side and the beast let out an anguished howl. He lashed out; fist thrown to the side, and Clark heard the impact as it flung Bruce against a wall. The wall cracked. Bruce didn’t get up.

Superman rammed himself into Grundy’s torso, his fists pummelled into his stomach and sides. Grundy faltered, his eyes drooped, and Clark slammed him to the ground.

“Clark-” The whisper made him stop suddenly. “Sedative,” Bruce croaked, his voice barely audible, “in the… batarang.” He coughed, his body shook under the armour.

“Br- Batman,” he let Grundy’s unconscious body sink onto the floor and darted to his friend’s side. Clark looked through the armour, thankfully only the cowl was lead lined, and winced. “You need a hospital, B, fast.”

“N-No, Alfred knows what to-” he groaned, the adrenalin pumping through his veins made his heart beat race. Clark felt panic rise in his chest.  “The manor. Now.” He grabbed Clark’s arm, his fingers digging in, and Clark picked him up. He watched the police vans arrive and shouted for them to get Grundy secure and then shot into the sky as fast as he could without causing Bruce further harm.

-

Clark hated waiting.

He paced the cave, his mind too full of images of Bruce’s dislocated shoulder and pale skin to take in his surroundings. Alfred had assured him that Bruce would be alright. The British man’s attitude had soothed him for a few minutes, but the worry soon came back. He heard the barely contained shout as Bruce’s shoulder was put in place and wished he could block it out.

What if he wasn’t alright? What if he..? Clark balled his hands into fists and pressed his nails into the palms of his hands. The pressure helped him focus. Bruce had broken his arm last time Clark had fought something with him. That had been bad enough; Bruce had made him set it and Clark had to grit his teeth at Bruce’s cry of pain. The past three months had been some of the most active Clark had endured; criminals and… things had come out of the woodwork in Metropolis and in other parts of the country. Bruce had helped him on several occasions; they had learned to fight side by side, using each other’s strengths and weaknesses to take down enemies that would be far more challenging alone. Clark had even fought with Robin; he was more athletic than Bruce at times, and had a tendency to almost change direction mid-air at times. It was an experience, to say the least.

“Excuse me,” Alfred stepped through the door that apparently led to a medical room, “Master Bruce is conscious. His wounds are not as severe as they could have been.” His lips quirked into a small smile. “He has certainly endured worse.” Clark let out a long breath.

“Thank you, Alfred.”

“Thank you for bringing him here so quickly.” The butler paused and looked at his watch. “I will be serving dinner down here in an hour, if you wish to stay. I expect the company will be appreciated.” He gave Clark a meaningful look.

“I, um, thank you?” Clark clasped his hands behind his back, strangely reminded of his only visit to Lana Lang’s parent’s house. Alfred ducked his head once and started walking away.

“He would like to see you, by the way; Master Bruce is not a patient man.” Clark took a deep breath as Alfred ascended into the Manor and walked slowly into the bright room.

Bruce was laid out on the hospital-style bed, his eyes closed and lips downturned. Clark looked at the IV drip and the medical case with several morphine doses missing. His breathing was shallow, but Clark didn’t see any internal injury. Bruce cracked an eye open and looked over, taking as deep a breath as his chest would allow.

“Hnn, Clark,” his voice cracked. Clark rushed over, his face drawn into a frown, and leaned over Bruce.

“I’m here, what can I do?” He asked. It was useless trying to disguise the helplessness he felt. Bruce shook his head, his eye fell closed again. With one finger, he touched the back of Clark’s hand; the digit stroked the soft skin, tracing gentle lines, and Clark felt his worry ebb away just a little.

“Don’t,” he coughed, his chest heaving, and let out a strangled groan, Clark’s worry came rushing back tenfold. “Don’t go,” Bruce whispered. Would Bruce have wanted him to stay without the morphine coursing through him? Clark had hoped so. He smiled gently at his friend.

“I’m not going anywhere. Alfred’s making dinner; I can’t turn down a free meal on a reporter’s salary, Bruce.” He put his hand over Bruce’s and squeezed minutely. Bruce smiled, an honest open smile that made Clark’s heart clench in his chest, and the man hummed a low laugh.

“Mm, Dick’ll want-” another cough, Clark reached for the small plastic bottle of water next to the bed. He unscrewed the cap and helped Bruce sit up to take a few cautious sips. “Dick’ll want my slice of cake.” He leaned back and took another deep breath. Clark watched warily as he pushed himself into a more comfortable position. Bruce would kick himself for mentioning names later, Clark just knew it.

“Not if I get it first.” Bruce laughed again and the sound was a little clearer. The laugh made Clark grin, his fears subsiding. It seemed that Bruce recovered quickly, even from heavy hitters; Clark didn’t even try not to be impressed.

They sat in silence for a while, Clark gently brushing the skin of Bruce’s hand with his thumb as the older man breathed quietly, a soft smile on his face. Alfred brought them soup after a while. Bruce refused to be spoon fed; he ate slowly and commented on how fast Clark managed to devour his meal. Clark just laughed and said it tasted good.

Robin, _Dick_ Clark told himself, rushed in as Bruce’s morphine wore off. They looked at each other for a long moment before the boy collapsed against the man’s side. Clark took that as a sign to leave.

As he went to thank Alfred, he heard Bruce whisper that he was fine, that he’d be fine; Dick’s muffled ‘okay’ sounded choked. Then, almost quiet enough that he didn’t hear it, Bruce said ‘thank you’.

Clark knew it was for him.


	9. Chapter 9

Bruce recovered quickly; the bruising on his chest and arms faded from mottled purple and blue to a dull yellow after a week, the pain had dissipated not long after. He hadn’t heard from Clark, though. The man had left shortly after Dick had collapsed onto him from what Bruce could remember. He did remember, though only vaguely, asking Clark to stay. Something must have come up.

Gotham seemed to have kindly waited for him to recover before releasing its breath. Harley Quinn, who had been in hiding with the Joker for a few months, had come into the open. She had taken several boxes of a dangerous acid compound from a one of the S.T.A.R. Labs facilities; Batman needed to find out why before the substance could be used. Robin had managed to get hold of most of the records related to it, but the trail had gone cold. None of the leads had panned out as Batman had hoped, but neither Harley nor the Joker had made any moves.

It didn’t help that Dick had pretty much forbidden him from leaving his own house until the bruising had gone.

Or that Alfred had done the same.

From his chair in the cave, Gotham’s security systems and surveillance at the tips of his fingers, Bruce monitored Robin’s movements through the city. The kid, though honestly he was getting to old to be called ‘kid’ anymore, was good at what he did. Dick’s patrols were always ordered, he paid attention to details that he would have missed a few years ago, and he followed ever rule Batman had ever taught him.

There was a ping on the screen. Fast moving object moving towards Robin’s location, it’s speed wasn’t decreasing.

“Robin, UFO due East, can you identify it?” He opened the communication quickly, a hint of worry worked its way into his voice.  The line crackled slightly as Robin replied. Bruce would have to look into that.

“Yeah, I see him, B.”

“’Him’?” Bruce raised an eyebrow.

“Superman’s doing a sweep of the city for me; looks like he’s just finished.” Robin replied. Bruce frowned; Clark had kept contact with Robin, but not him.

“Tell Superman I need to talk with him.” He said curtly, Robin mumbled ‘oh boy’ and passed the message on. Bruce waited, the silence of the cave pressed in. Robin’s marker on the computer screen moved, the blip that Superman had set off quickly moved across the screen to where Wayne Manor presided. Bruce let the defences down.

A whoosh of air signified Clark’s arrival. Bruce kept his eyes on the screen in front of him, tracing the path Dick made through the city over rooftops judging by the speed and angles.

“You wanted to see me?” Clark said. He kept to the back of the cave, near the exit Bruce noted. Bruce turned his head. From the corner of his eye he saw Clark stood awkwardly, his arms dangled by his side as though he didn’t know what to do with them, and Bruce turned around fully.

“You’ve avoided me.” He said simply, hands in his lap. Clark opened his mouth to speak then shut it again. His shoulders sagged.

“I didn’t mean to,” he said quietly. Clark stepped forward, his body slowly being bathed in light, and smiled guiltily at Bruce. “I’ve been  talking to Lois, sorting out work; it’s surprisingly time consuming.” He spoke quickly, his cheeks tinted red, and Bruce put his hand up. Clark shut up immediately. He looked similar to a chastised child; the image was strangely endearing.

“Clark, it’s alright. I just wanted to- to thank you.” Bruce stood crossed the room, his arm outstretched, and stopped a few feet short of Clark’s body. Clark took his hand and pulled him forward into a bear hug. Bruce stiffened; it wasn’t contact he was used to, especially not from people he barely knew.

But he did know Clark. He knew him better than most people did. And Clark… Clark knew  _him_. Clark knew him as Bruce  _and_ Batman; he knew Bruce’s past, and he didn’t shy away from it. Bruce was his by a surge of affection, of… something he didn’t want to dwell on.

Clark’s body was warm, the muscle of his chest hard, and Bruce resisted the urge to just melt into that strength. Against his own wishes, Bruce’s muscles began to relax; Clark’s hands spread over his back and Bruce swore he could feel the Kryptonian’s pulse thrumming beneath the surface of his skin. Clark heaved a breath, his chest expanded and Bruce stilled himself further, tried to control his heartbeat with slow breathing.

“I’m glad you’re alright, Bruce.” Clark whispered and his breath brushed the shell of Bruce’s ear. Bruce shivered and unconsciously pressed closer. Clark let him go, his arms curled around himself and his face flushed, but he didn’t step away. Bruce tried to ignore the heat coming off of Clark’s body. “S-Sorry, I just-”

“No it’s,” Bruce paused, tried to collect himself, “it’s fine.” He smiled at the relief on Clark’s face. “It’s not every day I get hugged by handsome strangers.” Clark’s expression changed, a series of motions too fast for Bruce to track with his eyes, and he looked down at his feet. The man rubbed the back of his neck, the skin shone slightly under the light of the cave, and Bruce wondered what it would feel like under his touch. His breath stuttered in his chest and Clark’s eyes shot up to meet his. His gaze dropped, Bruce’s lips parted, and he was suddenly aware of just how  _close_  they were.

“Bruce,” Clark whispered. Bruce heard his pulse roaring in his ears, it must have been almost deafening to Clark. His breath caught in his chest; the world seemed to slow around him in that moment, and Bruce was terrified. The soft press of Clark’s lips to his cheek broke the spell. He let out a sharp gasp and his fingers curled in the soft fabric of the cape. Bruce turned his head as Clark pulled away, their lips brushed and heat slipped down Bruce’s spine.

Then, they were kissing.

Bruce’s hands grasped Clark’s waist, dragging their bodies together, and he _ached_. Clark pressed himself against Bruce, their lips moving and parting for one another. It sounded ridiculous in his own head, but Bruce felt like he was being swallowed by the sun. Clark’s mouth moved against his, their tongues brushed against each other, and Bruce shivered at the low moan that the Kryptonian emitted. Clark’s hands clasped his shoulders and Bruce marvelled at the strength, at the  _control_ , his mind providing him with images of Clark losing just a little of that control.

The kiss ended; Bruce panted, his skin hot, and he just felt the play of Clark’s muscles under the suit.

“Once, I had to steal a man’s clothes; mine got burned off from helping survivors escape an oil rig explosion. The boots were too big but I couldn’t just walk around half naked.” The confession seemed to tumble out of Clark’s lips. Bruce paused, blinked, and looked up into Clark’s eyes.

“That’s wonderful, Clark, I’m… glad you shared that with me.”

Clark barked a laugh, his head tipped back, before shaking his head.

“I don’t- I don’t know why I said that.” He grinned and Bruce felt himself grin back.

“I’ve heard stranger things.”

The computer warned him of something approaching the cave. He extracted himself from Clark’s arms, the warmth of the man clung to him like clothing, and walked to the computer. Robin’s patrol had ended. Clark cleared his throat.

“I should go,” he mumbled. Bruce nodded and turned, reaching out with one arm to just  _touch_. Clark looked at him, his eyes soft, and took off.

Dick bounded in and recounted his evening. Bruce couldn’t have repeated a single word back to him if he’d asked. 


	10. Epilogue

Bruce woke mid-afternoon for once. The sun drifted through a gap in the curtains and warmed his exposed toes. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, sat up and moved his stiff muscles, and fell back into the soft pile of pillows. A sufficiently loud puff of air escaped them, and Bruce smiled. The sounds of Alfred doing his daily routine filtered up through the Manor. Bruce didn’t often get to just lie in bed and listen to the world around him; it was something special.

Clark shifted in his sleep, taking the covers with him, and Bruce turned on his side. It had been nearly three weeks since the kiss in the cave. Clark had decided he was going to be a semi-permanent part of Bruce’s life; Dick had been delighted.

“Mm, what time is it?” Clark mumbled, the muscles in his back shifting as he turned over.

“About three,” he replied. Clark made a strangled noise, his face buried in the pillows, and sat up quickly.

“I’ve pretty much missed _that_ pay cheque, then.” Bruce openly stared as Clark walked to the en suite.

“Then why are you getting up? I’m back here.” He called and smiled as Clark dropped something. The man appeared in the doorway, his arms wrapped around himself self-consciously. “You know I’ve seen you naked, you don’t need to hide from me.” Bruce got out of the bed, the sheets dropped to the floor, and Clark flushed as he looked down.

“I, um,” his eyes flickered around the room as Bruce strode towards him.

Bruce pressed himself against Clark, delighting in the shiver that ran through the man, and grinned into the crook of his neck. Clark groaned as he nipped at the skin, his fingers curled around the jut of Bruce’s hips.

“You weren’t nervous a few hours ago, Clark,” he whispered, hands wandering over the broad expanse of the Kryptonian’s back. Clark’s fingers tightened on his waist as he rocked forward into Bruce’s touch.

They didn’t leave the bedroom for a while. Bruce was sure his dresser was broken.

-

Dick was sat at the table in the main dining area, a bowl of cereal in one hand and a full spoon in the other, when Bruce descended the stairs.

“So, good night?” He asked, eyebrow raised.  Bruce nodded and crossed the room. “Yeah, I thought so. They don’t call him the ‘Man of Steel’ for nothing then, huh?” He commented. From upstairs came a loud thud and muffled cursing.

“Well, he certainly has certain some things in common with steel.” Another thud; Bruce grinned to himself. Clark would probably moan about it later, but he was so much _fun_ to tease. Dick laughed, head thrown back, and balanced his cereal bowl precariously.

“Seriously, don’t ever say that kind of thing to me again, ok? It’s bad enough _hearing_ you bump uglies with Superman. I don’t need to know how good he is in bed.” He ate a large spoonful of the cereal. Clark poked his head round the door, his glasses askew on his nose, and gave Bruce a meaningful glare.

He’d be paying for it later.

 


End file.
